


Yesterday

by scar-and-boomerang (Y_Woo)



Series: ATLA Daemons AU [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Coming of Age, Daemon Separation, Daemon Settling, Gen, Growing Up, Minor Character Death, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, but also fluff, daemons AU, i guess, what even are tags, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 13:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20976641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_Woo/pseuds/scar-and-boomerang
Summary: "And suddenly he was taller than he thought he could ever be, looking down at the blue clashing with red in little dots, clouds around him and the scattered white of igloos beneath. He was looking at the world through Rikki."A Sokka-centric coming of age story set in the Avatar-verse where all the people are born with a soul-animal companion know as a "daemon", as in the style of Lyra's universe in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. Contains NO His Dark Materials spoilers. Explores Kya's death and Hakoda's leaving, as well as worldbuilding and expanding on different aspects of the daemon lore past the established background in “Birds”.





	Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any ATLA characters or storylines, or the concepts and world building done by Philip Pullman. All daemon character names and characterisation are my own. Title of story and quote are taken from the lyrics of 'Yesterday' by Imagine Dragons, I do not own that either.
> 
> *contains one (1) homophobic slur towards the beginning, swearing and homophobia are bad, kids*

* * *

Oh, it's a crooked old tradition  
By a masterful magician.  
But in all this trouble I've met,  
I haven't got one single regret, no.  
  
Here's to my future,  
Here's to my yesterday.

* * *

Sokka was six years old when he asked his father what the word_ faggot_ meant. Hakoda’s face steeled, expressions devoid of any usual warmth, when he demanded where he’d picked up the insult and Sokka replied that he’d heard some teenaged boys tossing it halfheartedly at him on the streets with a laugh not entirely kind.

His father sat him down on the pelted floor of their igloo, both hands locking his young shoulders firmly in place and told him to remember, now and always, that _there was nothing wrong with him._

“Have you noticed how my Koko is a girl and your mother’s Tungo is a boy?”

“Yes, and Mags is a boy just like Tungo.” Sokka filled in eagerly, thinking fondly about his baby sister and the cute juvenile animal she always had in tow when she stumbled around the house.

“Exactly. People’s daemons are almost always the opposite gender. Your Rikki, however, is a boy like yourself. It is extremely uncommon for this to happen. In fact, we think you may be the first born into the South Pole since the Hundred Years War started. We don’t know how or why this happened, but the elders assured me that it doesn’t mean anything, just something that happens randomly and spontaneously to people.”

“So I’m not a faggot?” Sokka asked, eyes wide with innocence.

“It’s not a nice word, Sokka. Don’t ever repeat it about yourself, or anyone else, ever.”

“Sorry.”

“What the boys meant was that they had assumed you liked boys the way I like your mum and married people liked each other, just because you are a boy and your daemon also happened to be a boy, but that’s not true at all.”

“Yeah! I don’t even like _anyone_.”

“Not now. When you grow up, you might find yourself liking certain girls, or certain boys, or you might find that you liked both or continue to not like anyone at all, and all of those options are perfectly okay. But remember this, Sokka: whoever you choose to love, it’s because your heart and your soul chose that person, and not what some stereotypes people told you about the gender or form of your daemon.”

Sokka wondered then, and continue to wonder for all his life, how someone could take one look at a person’s daemon and decide that they knew everything about them. Sure, a settled animal often reflected their human’s character in their form, but that still doesn’t tell the world anything about their experience or history or emotions, or give anyone a right to think they can treat someone differently on any grounds.

When he angrily argued as much at the dinner table, Hakoda beamed with pride and Kya smiled sadly and said _if only more people in this world thought like you_ while Katara gargled happily and shoved a carrot in his mouth.

* * *

In the Southern Water Tribe, the children were the main fishers. Or rather, their daemons were. Katara and Sokka hadn’t been an exception to this tradition. When then time came round again, they would get up at the crack of dawn, bid their mother farewell, and follow their father to the docks. Sokka rubbed at his eyes and moaned, nagged by his seven-year-old sister and both their daemons, half awake and shuffling, a couple meters behind everyone else.

They would sail out in a fishing boat into open waters that glimmered and shone under the infant sun that’d just been reborn that morning. Hakoda stood at the bow with his dark wolverine, while Katara and Sokka stood starboard, watching their daemons haul fish after fish onto the decks.

That day both Rikki and Mags shifted into penguins. Daemon penguins weren’t like the otter penguins native to the South Pole. They only had one pair of flippers, and their beaks were sharp and birdlike. Mags still had tufts of brownish baby feathers clinging to his body, whereas at nine, Rikki’s form already resembled that of an adult animal, with a proud patch of yellow bright as the sun on his breast.

Sometimes, Katara and Sokka joined in with fishing spears or ropes. Solely for the sake of participation, however, as their daemons were ten times more efficient at bringing in prey than they could be on the best days.

“Can we race?” Mags’s boyish voice piped up from the waters, shifting into a dolphin already. “We’ve been at it for ages.”

Both children looked to their father and, after eyeing the solid pile of fish on the boat and deciding they had earned it, adjusted the sail to catch more wind.

They sped forward as fast as the boat was able, Rikki and Mags leaping out of the water after each other, arching gracefully in the air and diving back under without so much as a splash. The children cheered them on as the boat chased the dolphins, wind whipping across their face and pouring down the necks of their parkas.

“Mags, Rikki, slow down!” Koko’s motherly voice called out in alarm as her human, Sokka and Katara’s father, struggled to maintain proximity. Suddenly, as one dolphin leapt with particular might, Sokka gasped and doubled over onto the wooden deck, clutching his middle.

“Sokka!”

“Rikki!”

Katara and Hakoda called out respectively. Fortunately, Rikki must have felt the pain as well, as he stopped in an instant, turned, and swam sheepishly back to the boat, with Mags tailing him. He shifted into a seagull to get onto the boat, then a hare to cuddle next to his human on the deck.

“Sorry.” He said guiltily.

“It’s fine,” Sokka insisted, though he was still rubbing at his ribcage just where his heart was and clinging to Rikki a bit tighter than normal, “I’m fine.”

“I think that’s enough for the day.” Hakoda said with finality, “Time to go home.”

He pulled on the rudder and turned the boat around, with Mags still in the water, whining.

“Rikki and Sokka always ruin everything!”

* * *

Sokka grunted as another half-formed snowball hit him in the face. Katara was getting more and more proficient at waterbending by the day, which of course, spelled bad news for her nonbender elder brother. He bent down to scoop another wallop of snow in his hands, the fresh precipitation that had just arrived last night loose and crumbly, slipping through his gloved fingers as another round of snow caught him on the neck - not even slightly ball-shaped this time.

“Not fair!” He squealed, dignity forgotten, “you cheated.”

“Bending isn’t cheating.” Katara said, feigning innocence.

To the side, Rikki lounged about in the sun as a chubby seal, not bothered at all by his human’s predicament. Mags, who was at that age where he mimicked his brother’s every form, also laid on the snow as a seal, watching his human pummel Rikki’s with barely contained glee.

“Yeah! Get him, ‘Tara!”

It was then that the flakes of soot started drifting down ominously from the sky. Sokka stuck out his hand to catch one in his palm as shouts of alarm from men sounded in the distance. Rikki sprung into action, flapping his blubbery seal fins once and transformed into an adult malamute, and ran towards the direction of the voices, barking.

“I’m going to find mum!” He heard Katara call out to no one in particular behind him, Mags also the same black-and-grey coated dog at her side.

The icy docks were already in commotion as wolves and dogs and a couple reindeers clashed with all kinds of large and sleek feline species Sokka couldn’t recognise. He dodged Water Tribe and Fire Nation alike, locating the familiar bearded face of his dad twisted into aggression and the maroon wolverine at his side, swiping down daemon after daemon.

“Sokka!” It was Koko who spotted them first. Hakoda reeled around to see his son, standing amidst the battle, shellshocked, swords and fangs barely missing boy and dog.

“Sokka! What are you doing? Get back inside!” Hakoda roared as he ducked and took out a Fire Nation soldier trying to take advantage of his momentary distraction. “Go stay with your mum, go!”

He didn’t need telling twice. Turning, he made to leave for the inner village. However, he soon found himself lost and dizzied among the crowd, standing on tiptoes did not help clear his line of view as he was drowned in the sea of fighting adults.

“I got this!” Rikki piped, and shifted into a beautifully black and angled seabird before taking to the skies. Sokka closed his eyes and took a deep breath, _push your mind out_, he tried as his mother instructed him, _search for your daemon and focus on him, don’t think about your own body, let your sight fuse with Rikki’s and look with your soul, not your eyes._

And suddenly he was taller than he thought he could ever be, looking down at the blue clashing with red in little dots, clouds around him and the scattered white of igloos beneath. He was looking at the world through Rikki.

A solitary red soldier emerged from an igloo and hurried away from the scene. From its location relative to key landmarks that Sokka - _Rikki_ \- could see, it was their house, where Katara was with their mum. Sokka’s eyes shot open with alarm, he had to find dad.

It turned out his little sister beat him to it, however, as he heard his father shout “Kya!” across the snowy field and the two humans and their daemons ran towards the hut. Sokka made to follow, cutting through soldiers a lot easier now that the Fire Nation army seems to be retreating, driven off by their tribesmen.

When he arrived back home, his father was kneeling on the floor, bent over. A pair of legs lay limply across Hakoda’s lap, wearing what Sokka recognised to be his mother’s boots and dress. Katara was standing by the doorway, with her hand pressed up to her mouth, too shocked to cry, and he didn’t want to piece together the clues and think about what happened here and why no one was shouting for a healer.

Later, whenever Sokka reluctantly thought back on that day, he would always wonder whether his mind had imagined the faint glimmer of golden dust in the hut.

* * *

They buried Kya by the coast, Hakoda and Bato shovelled the dirt a little way above the crashing waves, Sokka and Katara gathered stones to mark the grave, and Gran Gran stood at a distance, lips pursed into thin line, and watched on with her small penguin with the sharpest aquamarine gaze.

It was Katara who broke the silence, when her father and Bato lowered her mother’s body into the grave and began covering it again.

“Where’s Tungo?” She cried, voice shrill, “Aren’t you going to bring Tungo to her?”

When Hakoda made a choking sound and bowed his head, Bato saw he was hurting too much to explain and spoke up instead. “Tungo isn’t here anymore, sweetie.” He soothed. “He’s in the afterlife, waiting for your mum to show her the way as soon as she gets there.”

This didn’t comfort Katara as much as it was intended to. She pressed, worry lining her furrowed brow as she struggled to understand. “But wouldn’t he be all scared and worried and lonely there?”

“He won’t be anymore, he has your mother back now.”

“But—” The young girl made to argue some more when Hakoda finally spoke.

“Katara, _please._” He said, not stopping the mechanical motion with the shovel in his hand, as if that was all he knew how to do anymore. Sokka thought his father sounded more tired than anything.

* * *

They still went fishing and hunting together as a trio, but whenever they came back no one would be racing to enter the hut first, dragging the fruit of their labours and taking the credit for a particular haul. They knew there wasn’t anyone to impress in that igloo. Not anymore.

Sokka took up night patrol duties from his father one night, and it had been him every week from that night on. In the Southern Water tribe, the night patrols aren’t about security or fighting. They were set up to protect their children in the settling of their daemons.

Before the patrols came to be, every now and then there would be a child whose daemon settled in the night as an aquatic animal. They would sleepwalk to the coast and lay down as their daemons, without waking either, settled calmly as a dolphin or beluga or shark into the waters. By the morning, when their parents woke up to an empty bed and footprints outside the house, and rushed with a sinking feeling in their stomachs to the waters, the child, in nothing but a night shirt, would have already been found dead of hypothermia, and no one will ever lay eyes on the beautiful animal their daemons became, and coo in pride and anticipation at the years of racing on the ocean surface that awaited them both.

Some families started building doors into their igloos to replace the loose drapes, hoping to lock their children in the house should this occur to them, to prevent them from unknowingly roaming into the cold to their deaths. They lost a couple children this way, too, unmoving in their beds by morning, presumably with their newly settled daemon suffocated or dried out during the night, unable to survive on land.

Eventually, the tribe decided that the only solution was to send out teams of men every night to patrol the coasts, locating the children and keeping them alive until morning, when their families would be informed and they would pack their things and relocate by the shore, as the kids couldn’t be separated far from their water dwelling daemons. It was a rare occurrence, and some may argue that one child every year or two wasn’t worth sending the men out every night, but Hakoda had insisted that even saving one child from such a horrible fate would make up for a lifetime’s worth of patrolling, and Sokka was inclined to agree with him.

It had been after another one of such patrolling sessions, Sokka was walking home with Rikki behind him, both eager to hit the bed and sleep until noon. Katara, who’d just gotten up, left the igloo to stretch and froze when she saw the tall black wolf beside Sokka.

“Tungo?” She called, taking off running towards them. “Tungo!”

Sokka followed Katara’s line of vision and looked down, confused. He hadn’t noticed that during the night, his daemon had shifted into a splitting image of his mother’s Tungo - a wolf with the inkiest dark fur, lined with silver at the cuffs. His sister, too, realised this as she got close, finally stopping in her tracks in front of her brother.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” She yelled, seemingly at both Sokka and Rikki, her face twisting in anger. Rikki shrugged.

“I just thought I’d give this a go.” He defended himself.

“You have no _right!_” Katara exploded, and stormed closer to give Sokka a solid shove at the chest. She had been growing recently, and though still a couple centimetres shorter, was rapidly pulling close to her brother’s height. “You have no right to pretend to be her, or him! That form is Tungo’s! How _dare_ you?!”

“I can do what I want!” Rikki snarled up at his brother’s human.

“He’s right!” Sokka defended his daemon, though shocked at first at the form himself, he soon turned indignant at his sister’s outburst. “You’re not the boss of him, and Tungo didn’t _own_ that form to himself!”

“_Argh!_” Katara growled, making a grab at Rikki.

Before she could make contact with the daemon, however, she was picked up off the ground herself by no other than Hakoda, who had been woken up by the sound of arguing between his children and came outside just soon enough to prevent disaster.

“_Katara!_” He boomed at his daughter, “You must never,_ never _touch another’s daemon without consent! It’s the among the worst violations you could ever do to a human and their daemon!”

Katara had the good conscience to look a little guilty. Still, her anger hadn’t been completely quenched.

“He was pretending to be _Tungo_.” She whispered, half furious, half broken. Hakoda, who hadn’t had enough time to quite grasp what was going on, looked up in surprise at Rikki - somewhat dazed and startled at almost being touched, but still maintaining the black wolf form - and blanched. He quickly regained his composure, and turned his attention back to his daughter.

Setting her down on the ground and kneeling to look up at her, he said patiently, “Tungo is gone, Katara. And it hurts me to be reminded of that too. But he didn’t own the form, and he wasn’t the only one who was allowed to use it. Although it’s painful to look upon another black wolf, it also brings back memories of your mum and how much she loved us all, and how she protects us still, even now. If either you or your brother chooses to have another black wolf as a daemon, I would be so incredibly proud.”

Next to him, Koko padded up to look at Rikki, cocked her head, and snuggled up to the wolf softly.

Despite what Hakoda had said that day, neither Mags nor Rikki ever took the form of a wolf again.

* * *

When he was twelve, Sokka woke up to a pointy flat beak in his face one day.

Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, he mumbled in confusion and set his eyes upon a flurry of brilliant maroon upon a backdrop of elegant grey tinged with metallic blue, and laced with stunning white stripes. He gasped at Rikki’s beautiful form and grinned.

“Do you like it?” Rikki asked, anxious.

“Are you kidding? I love it!” He exclaimed, picking the chubby bird up and examining him from all angles possible. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before. What are you?”

“A harlequin duck.” All daemons had instinctual recognition of animal species even when they’ve never seen or been it before. “I think it’s here to stay.

“Well, about time.” Sokka said, more serious now. “I mean it though, I love it.”

“For ever and ever?”

“For ever and ever.”

Ducks can’t quite grin, but Rikki was trying his damn well hardest to anyway.

When his father stepped back in the house to check on them because Sokka had been in bed longer than usual, he was greeted with the dight of his son holding a colourful duck up side down to inspect its soles, the latter quacked furiously and indignantly to be let down. He noticed his father and broke into the widest grin, presenting the daemon - still wrong way up - to him.

“Dad!” He called. “Rikki’s settled!”

Hakoda beamed with pride. Before he could say anything, Katara, who’d heard her brother’s shout, came barrelling into the room past her father.

“Really?” She yelled, “lemme see lemme see lemme s— oh. Oh, he’s _beautiful_.”

She’d stopped in front of Sokka’s bed, by which time Rikki had already been set down onto his lap. Mags caught up with his human and, upon seeing Rikki’s settled form, shifted himself into a similar harlequin duck. The two fluttered down onto the floor, and circled each other in experimental waddles.

“It suits you, Sokka.” Hakoda commented, still smiling warmly. “Harlequin ducks are excellent swimmers and divers. We’ll have to take him out today, he’ll enjoy trying it out.”

“That sounds great!” Sokka agreed, jumping down from the bed himself., ready to start the first day in his grown up life.

Later that night, exhausted from a full day of splashing and running and receiving congratulations from the whole tribe, Sokka laid down on his bed and exhaled contentedly, eager to start the next day knowing which form Rikki will still be in by his side. When Hakoda came over to bid him goodnight, Sokka peeled his eyes open.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“I wish mum was here to see this.”

“Me too, son.” Hakoda sighed. “She would have been so proud.”

* * *

“Let me go with you, dad” Sokka pleaded as he watched the men boarding the ships with packed provisions and changes of clothes, reindeers and wolves and _even a couple seals _taking their place on deck, his face clad in war paint that looked suspiciously similar to Rikki’s markings, hand gripping his battle club tightly.

“No, Sokka.” His father ordered firmly, “I need you here to protect the tribe and your sister while I’m gone. It’s up to you now.”

Knowing arguing was pointless, he reluctantly watched them leave, staring at the shrinking boats on the horizon and determinedly ignoring the growing sensation of anxiety and fear in the pit of his stomach. Rikki balanced on top of his head, his feet tucked under his belly.

“Do you think if I were something more useful, he would have let us come?” He asked quietly.

Rikki never said or showed how jealous he was of Mags ever since the latter settled into a gorgeously fierce white fox. Proud as he had been of his own form, the ornate duck had always been a little self conscious about his size and lack of agility and intimidation. Though he would never admit, Sokka could still feel the sentiment through their unspoken bond as human and daemon, and tried his hardest to not succumb to the same emotions.

“No! Don’t ever say that.” He snapped. “You can be fierce! You can bite like no other, and swim faster than any shark. Why else would dad have trusted us to guard the village? Someone has to.”

His daemon quacked softly in appreciation. Sokka tried not to think about whether or not this was the last time he will see his dad again, if he will just become another number in the statistics of casualty given to the war like sacrifices of tiger seals to the spirits they presented every winter solstice. _He will come back,_ Sokka told himself, _and when he does, he’ll tell you how proud he was of how well you defended and protected the village, and how he knew you could do it._

“What do we do now?” Above him, Rikki asked.

“First,” Sokka decided, with the finality worthy of a chief, “We build a watchtower.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed the story!
> 
> Behind the Names:  
(Some daemon names are Inuit, pronunciations and meanings are according to my research but idk how reliable my sources are. If any Inuit friends around here wants to yell at and correct me feel free.)  
Sokka's daemon, as mentioned, is a harlequin duck, named Rikki, short for Taliriktug (ta-lee-rick-took) which means "strong arm"  
Katara's daemon is an arctic fox, Mags is short for Maguyuk (ma-ge-yook) which means "the howling one)  
Hakoda's daemon is a wolverine called Koko, nickname for Kaviko, from the word "Kavik", which is Native American for wolverine (because I am uncreative as heck lol)  
Kya's black wolf is called Tungo, short for Tungulrion, which is from the name Tungulria meaning "black one" (see above with being uncreative)  
Gran Gran's daemon is an Adelie penguin.


End file.
